


Five Times Aliens got in the way of a Kiss and one Time they didn’t

by Klayr_de_Gall



Series: Klayr fills some Prompts [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 5 + 1, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Billy being an assole, Fluff and Angst, Getting better with feelings, M/M, Season 3 Fix it, Steve is a good friend, enemies to friends to...?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22020406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klayr_de_Gall/pseuds/Klayr_de_Gall
Summary: “Do you believe in Aliens, King Steve?”
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Klayr fills some Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1585240
Comments: 14
Kudos: 127





	Five Times Aliens got in the way of a Kiss and one Time they didn’t

**Author's Note:**

> 106: Do you believe in Aliens?
> 
> The prompt was requested by [giraffewrites](https://giraffewrites.tumblr.com/) and did come from this [Tumblr Promtp List](https://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/post/189885279166).
> 
> To be fair I didn't really know what to do with it at first. But after inspiration hit, the idea did run away from me. As always XD
> 
> This Story is unbetaed. I really tried my best. Hope it is not as bad as I imagine.

1.

“Do you believe in Aliens, King Steve?”

The snarling comment gets Steve to look up, hand still raised to the lid of his open trunk. He is met with too much skin way to close, a waxed chest barely covered by a shirt with jobless buttons, and Steve has to force himself to look higher, to not linger too much. Not that Billy Hargrove's face is any less distracting. The full, pink lips are still split by a slowly healing cut, the last shadow of a bruise around one of that searing blue eyes slowly disappearing. Steve has the bruises to match Billy's banged up knuckles, finally fading to an ugly yellow after three weeks. It’s the first time after that one night at the Byers that brought him and the blonde teen to the long-overdue explosion that Billy speaks a full sentence to him that’s not an insult. Probably not.

“What?” he asks all clever.

“Do you. Believe. In Aliens? King Steve.”

With every word that Billy speaks as slow as possible - like he is talking to some child - his gaggle of fans starts to snicker and catcall, the loudest of them Tommy H. That's what stings the most about the humiliation, not that Steve would ever say it out loud.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Hargrove?”

The moment Billy tries to reach into the Beemers trunk, Steve notices his mistake. He had picked up a big poster from Dustin yesterday, for a scienc project he and Will would be holding later. _Aliens are real - here is why._ It’s nerdy as fuck but also colorful and impressive, with hand-drawn pictures from Will and important-sounding bullet points rephrased to perfection by Dustin.

Steve slams the trunk shut.

The metal lid nearly crushes Hargrove's fingers, barely snatched back in time. Only the cuff of his shirt gets caught, gets the blonde stuck for a moment. They both stare at each other and Steve can’t be sure if he stopped breathing, his heart thundering away in his chest, filling his ears with impossibly loud rushing.

Snarling like a caged animal, Billy rips his arm free, pulling up and back and Steve prepares for another fist to his nearly healed face. When Hargrove pats his cheek instead, the gesture soft and patronizing, Steve is so unprepared he nearly jumps three feet into the air.

“Prissy Has-beens should better stay out of my way, Harrington. I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt, right?”

With that Billy stalks away, his entourage following him hurriedly. Dumbfounded and contemplating his sanity, Steve sinks against his car. He is not sure what just happened.

~~*~~

2.

It’s two at night and Steve is still a bit high from the joint he smocked at the start of the party, and a lot more drunk, having finished off two bottles of wine and actually winning back his keg-stand record. Susan Waids annual spring party is slowly winding down, drunken teens stumbling out of the house in all directions. He is not even sure how he got here, if he was invited or not. But the party is a yearly tradition. And no one had bothered to kick the former king out, not even after committing social suicide. And free alcohol was free alcohol.

Trying - and failing - to walk a straight line back to his car over the Waids’ lawn, Steve nearly steps onto a formless lump on the ground. He curses, sways a bit and still stumbles because his feet catches on whatever had been obscuring his way.

“Shiiiit~”

Steve lands on his shoulder to avoid faceplanting, not getting his hands out of his jacket pockets fast enough. The ground is soft so it doesn’t hurt that bad, but it is also damp from this morning's short spring rain, so wetness is instantly soaking through the fabric of his jacket and shirt.

“Ugh… that’s gross.”

  
Rolling onto his back, Steve complains up to the sky, hating this night a little. The formless lump beside him comes to life, unfurls into a person. Dirty blonde curls spill over the ground and the strong smell of alcohol, sweat, and bitter cologne fills the air. A mix Steve has gotten way to used to in the last months. Hargrove had started to orbit around him, again. A bit less assholy but not really friendly either. A status quo.

“Harrington?”

Billy shuffles around a bit, unbothered by all the cold and wet grass, till he can lie beside him, his head tucked so near that a few curls tickle Steve's cheek.

“Watcha doin’ on the ground?”

It’s impressive that Hargrove sounds even more wasted then Steve feels.

“Tripped over you, asshole.”

There is a huff and some rustling, the clicking of a zippo. Steve can see a flame flickering out of the corner of his eye, just for a moment. Then Billy exhales a cloud of white smoke into the night sky.

“Fair enough. Was waiting for you,” the blonde teen slurs. The statement is too ridiculous to even dignify with an answer, but Billy doesn’t seem to expect one either. Instead, he holds the freshly lit cigarette against Steve’s lips, narrowly avoiding to stab his right eye.

The rough drag of Billy’s fingers against his chapped lips sends a pleasant tingle down Steves spin, then the cigarette is gone again.

“Do you believe in Aliens, Pretty Boy?”

Steve had been on the edge of dozing off and has to blink a few times to even speak. His voice sounds tired and soft. To be aware that monsters are real is more knowledge then he ever wanted, no way would he add worries about extraterrestrial life to his list of neverending nightmares. But he can’t just tell Hargrove that.

“Not really. ... You?”

“Yeah.”

The answer is as unexpected as Billy’s hushed tone and Steve looks over to him, studies his profile, only lit by the cherry of the cigarette and a streetlamp far down the road. Hargrove gnaws on his bottom lip, obviously contemplating if he should say more. Steve is struck by the desire to pull his soft lip away from his teeth, sooth it over with the pads of his fingers. He looks back up to the stars instead.

“Feels less lonely like that.”

  
Billy’s words hang between them way longer than the time they lie on the lawn.

~~*~~

3.

Working a minimum wage job to learn a lesson had never been something on Steves list of things to try. Scoops is a hell hole of boredom and unnecessary rude customers and no amount of free ice cream could lighten up Steve's mood. Even the regular visits by the nerd-club has started to feel less like an act of friendship and more like a mean to exploit him for ice cream and free entrance to the movie theater.

One of the few joys of Steve's week, besides not having to work closing shifts as often as Robin - because he just messes up stuff like that, and not even on purpose - were Billy’s visits. It had surprised anyone - most of all Steve - that the both of them had grown closer over the summer, actually forming a tentative friendship. Billy was still an arrogant asshole but Steve could match him in that skill, hadn’t been King of Hawkins High for noting. So they often meet up after both of them have finished their shift to enjoy a warm night at the quarry with some alcohol and the music Billy has choosen. On Steve's free day, the kids would beg him to drive them to the communal pool and he happily would agree. On the days Billy works in the morning or gest off earlier than expected, he would usually swagger into Scoops Ahoy and distract Steve with his tales from the pool till Robin complains.

But the last time Steve had seen the blonde had been on Monday, three days ago, and he is pissed and bored and hurt and even more pissed. That his mood did depend so much on his regular Billy-fixes is a bit concerning. Even Robin has started to notice the shift in tone by now. She probably had noticed way earlier, but the fact that she had said something to Steve about it a few hours prior ment it was bad.

When Hargrove finally walks into the ice cream shop after ghosting him for so long, Steve is too distracted by detangling his emotions from a weird mix of annoyance and happiness to immediately notice that something is wrong. Billy stomps up to the counter, eyes focused and sharp, just slapping the little door aside that separates the costumer-floor from the serving space, walking straight past Steve without a word.

“Billy? Hargrove, what the fuck!”

But Billy just walks on, barrels through the backdoor of the shop like a freight train. Robin looks up from her magazine, halfway between bored and irritated, shooting Steve her trademark _‘the fuck, Dingus?’_ eyebrow rise. Not that Steve has any time to respond to that with the way Billy rips the door to the walk-in-freezer open and just disappears inside.

“Are you nuts? You can’t just walk in there! We have some hygienic standards, dickhead!”

That he just had scooped marshmallow ice cream directly from the container yesterday was no one's business.

Still ignoring him, Hargrove finds the smallest, furthest corner from the door and sinks into it, huddles up, arms around his knees. For the first time Steve really looks at him. His skin is sweat-slick and dirty, his usually well cared for and permed hair is a knotted disaster that’s sticking to his bare shoulders. In only his lifeguard trunks, the blonde is beginning to shiver violently, grasping his knees even harder. His veins seem dark and pulsing under the pale, ill-looking skin and Steve has to wonder about why he is seeing them this clear at all.

“Billy?”

Starting to shiver in the cold space himself, Steves takes a few steps closer. it feels like walking on thin ice, like balancing on a to small plank that’s connecting two sides of an impossible deep canyon.

“Billy, Hey. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Gripping his legs so hard that his nails actually draw blood, Billy presses his face to his knees. His voice sounds unused and like gravel.

“Do you believe in Aliens, Harrington?”

Steve thinks about the nailed bat that he still drives around in the trunk of his car, about the gray walkie talkie that is stored in the Beemers glove compartment. About the nightmares that crawl under his skin and wake him up screaming and kicking every other night, that taint his skin white and let the bags under his eyes grow.

Steve thinks about how Billy’s eyes look as haunted as his own whenever he looks into a mirror at night. Instead of answering, he asks the question back.

“Do you?”

“Yes… But they look a lot more like monsters then I imagined.”

Steve knows that something is wrong. And he damn well knows that he will try to fix it.

~~*~~

4.

Everything is white and gray and way to clean. The biting smell of disinfectant hangs in the room, only masking the stall air but not neutralizing is. The light flickers above, no Upside-Down-Business, only age. Someone walks the hall in front of the room, the clack clack clack of heels getting swallowed by distance.

Steve sits up and rubs his eyes. Jawns. He has no idea if it is morning or night. The windowless room gives no indication and his watch broke while fighting monsters. But neither the nurse nor Max have showed up yet, so it had to be the early hours of the morning.

Besides him a monitor beeps once, then buzzes for a bit while a clear substance is pushed through one of the long tubes. Steve follows with his eyes, probably should know what kind of medication this is but can’t remember right now. The tube winds around a pale arm, deeper wounds still bandaged, lighter ones slowly healing, then disappears out of sight under the blanket. Billy’s chest rises and falls slowly. Steve watches for signs of stuttering for a moment, but the calm is never interrupted, Billy continuing to breathe on his own.

“Steve?”

To occupied with staring, Steve barely notices the other man’s awakening. He had been there when it counted the most, one week ago, when Billy finally fought his way up and out of his own mind with the help of El. And with every new morning, waking uo got a bit easier.

“I’m here.”

The fingers that curl around Steve’s hand are still weak, but Billy’s strength will return in time.

“You're reading that shit?”

They both look down at the magazine that still lies open on the bed, half hidden by the covers, that Steve had been reading before nodding off. It’s one of the more paranormal kind. A whole two pages are dedicated to Hawkins and the Fire of Star Court that had happened a month ago.

“It’s just entertainment,” Steve shrugs. “The newest theory is that Aliens abducted everyone, you know? It’s so fucking hilarious.”

Billy still shrinks into himself whenever he gets subjected to the topic, pain and guilt spiking hard. But he had demanded - screamed - for all of them to stop walking on eggshells around him, to bring it up whenever, so he has to face it, can face it. And Steve rather talks about it and picking up the little pieces that are falling out of Billy’s mask, then having him go through it alone.

“Aliens?”

Billy’s voice is flat and Steve can see the next line from a mile away, still, he plays the game by Hargrove's rules.

“Yes, Aliens.”

“You believe in Aliens, Steve?”

The only thing that prevents Billy from getting smothered with a pillow is Max, bursting through the door with a happy bounce, way to awake for eight in the morning.

~~*~~

5.

“Do you believe I would make a good alien, Princess? Or better! A hot space traveler?”

Handful of leftover popcorn halfway to his mouth, Steve looks over to Billy, slowing his steps down a little bit, just enough to not draw attention to it, so the other man can keep up. After having to sit through a two hour movie, Billy’s limbs tend to get stiff and his scars start to ache. Ha could always get up - Steve had told him the last 4 times they watched a film, that he should have said something so they could leave - but of course, Billy is a stubborn bastard and prefers to suffer through the pain in silence.

“What?”

Steve has to remind himself that this is not a date. No matter how close Billy walks, how he always presses his shoulder against Steve’s or looks him in the eyes with this way to intense stare he has. It’s just the bi-weekly _“I saved the world, now entertain me”_ -thing they do now.

"If I'm as hot as Ripley. We have a lot on common. We are both blonde, hot as hell, curly hair~.”

“You have bigger tits.”

Billy laughs so hard he nearly walks into a streetlight.

Seeing his friend laugh makes Steve feel insanely proud. The world isn’t back to normal yet and will probably never be, the memorial for the Missing in the center of town a stark reminder of that. But slowly they find a new axis in their lives, around each other. Steve still dreams of monsters, of cold hands gripping his face, of needles breaking his skin, and still wakes up screaming and crying, but now he can get out of bed and wander to his parents guestroom. Where the door is never fully closed and one small lamp is always on.

Billy will look up and tell him to go to sleep, or just hold up the blankets and they both know that every monster that will dare to come for them will have a hard time.

~~*~~

+1

Steve didn’t know what to expect when Billy refused to show or tell him what he had planned to wear at Halloween this year. It had been hard not to sniff around, because that asshole was making a big deal out of it, always dropping hints, but still refused to spill. That Robin had wandered in a few hours ago, with a big case of what looked like Makeup hadn’t calmed any nerves.

A surprise is nice and all, but Steve had hoped to dress up in something matching, to make it look like a couple-thing and maybe, finally work up the nerve to tell Billy how he felt and that he wanted to level-up from being friends - friends that were way too handsy with each other anyway.

But now he is standing in front of his parents house in a cheap police uniform, waiting, stomping his feet against the cold.

“Hargrove!! Buckley!! Get your lazy asses out here or I drive without you! I’m freezing!”

And there wouldn’t even be any alcohol at the party to warm him up, because the kids are still too young for that and Steve refused to buy them any beer. Yet.

Some shuffling and cursing from behind the door later, and Billy finally steps out of the house. Steves's whole brain just shuts off.

Billy is in a gray overall, open in the front to reveal a big portion of his chest and scars. In the middle of Billy’s chest, in the middle of the biggest scar, where the Mindflyer had impaled him and nearly killed him, sits an open wound with a Xenomorph bursting out, little teeth bared.

“Awesome, right?”

Robin looks so immensely pleased with herself and yes, the prob looks impressive, but Steve is a little bit distracted by all the skin on display. Even one nipple is visible, Holy Hell. And Robin - Robin knows, so that’s probably all her doing and Steve wants to strangle her and hug her at the same time, and Billy just steps so impossible close, eyes sparkling and so so blue.

“Do you believe in Aliens, babe?”

“Oh, shut up.”

With his hand grasping Billy’s neck, he pulls the blonde close and into a hurried kiss that has their noses bump and their teeth connect unpleasantly. Robin snickers beside them, then makes a gagging noise.

Steve doesn’t care. All he cares about is the little happy purr that leaves Billy’s lips once their lips slot together perfectly, once Steve's hand finds the dip of Billy's hip.

There is not much Steve believes in but he believes that this moment is the start to something new and beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave some Love!  
> Also, you can find me on tumblr as klayr-de-gall! <3


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